I have believed in the existence of Santa Claus for as many years as I can remember. I had a conversation the other day with one of the other administrative interns at my campus about the time he told his parents he no longer believed in Santa Claus … but he didn’t mind if they wanted to still give him Christmas gifts signed by “Santa.”
I had the great honor of meeting Santa Claus this morning. No, not the actual bishop of a bygone era. I met the spirit of the season. The Christmas spirit that isn’t consumed with the commercialism and greed that pervades this time of year.
I met him:
This gracious man, dressed as the mall Santa Claus, exuded the essence of what this season should be about:
I accompanied the students and teachers of my life skills unit to the mall today. These are students with significant cognitive deficiencies. The bodies of young teenagers with the mental capacities of 3, 4, & 5 year olds.
I watched this man allow each of my students to sit on his lap and I heard from each of my students the questions that he asked them. Wise, non-judgmental questions. In that moment, I became lost in the magic of the season.
The Writer posted a link to an article she found in the Chicago Tribune. The author of the article wrote that she doesn’t believe in Santa Claus.
I saw him today.
With my own eyes.